Free download
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #1,385
Peak in subgenre #699
Author
flaahless
Rights
Xquizit-CAS Productions
Uploaded
May 14, 2003
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.7 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
When my raps fire, I blast to rip skin/
But I don’t clap iron, I clap a bic pen/
A rap hit men, that’s splittin ya wig/ off
I’m quick on the draw like billy the kid/
So when I’m coming for you,
just duck and run for cover cuz I’m gunning for you/ its over ya dead/
Have my lead all over ya crew, cuz I’m popping joints/
Filled with hollow point number 2’s/
Pencils, split through ya dense tissues/
And…outline ya body like stencils/
I rip em all, mechanical or manual/
It doesn’t matter I’ll manage to damage you/
So while you take ten paces and turn/
I’ve burned ten spaces, I’m the greatest to serve/
You’ve learned from ya mistakes and it’s worth/
All the pain I’ve dispersed when displaying this verse/
I don’t need gun to bring the heat to one/
Tight like that, my mic flash so bright you think it’s the sun/
I wrote the scriptures that you’re reading from/
I run the spot, put my thumb on top, squeeze and pump/
Out comes point 5, or point seven/
The thicker the better, the quicker you join heaven/
This whole joints wreckless, like arthritis/
Don’t let ya boys test it, I start fires/
… That spark heat to burn an emcee/
ya death is everlasting, written in permanent ink/
Don’t step to CAS, unless it’s murder you seek/
I’ll write until my pen collapse, then spit a rap/
Verbally, I know you’ve heard of the king/
So who’s time is it, to see ya life doomed in one line/
Cuz the same shit you can do with a nine/
I’ll pick up a pen and use a mic to ruin ya life with a rhyme/
Now, don’t speak to battle cuz, my heat will rattle ya/
Splatter ya, when I release sixteen ink calibers/
Shatter ya, and watch the blood leak outta ya/
You can’t ride the beat, so what makes you think you can saddle us/
We the baddest to, fuck ya faggot crew/
Have you maggots bruised, from my pen that spits only black and blue/
Or red when I’m making corrections/
Blaze and wreck shit with the metaphorical essence/
Of Shakespeare reborn in the present/
Scorching you peasants, whenever lyrical boredom sets in/
While you write about ice and jewelry/
Rides and foolish things, I’ll write your eulogy/
I move the beat, I’m top notch so stop/
ya not hot, but you still aren’t as cool as me/
So when you cock ya glock, stare and blast/
I’ll drop 5 shots from a block paragraph/
If you got glocks, and you pop spots/
Save that for the streets, don’t rap on the beat/
…You can’t clap with my heat/
My mic will smash in ya teeth and blast you with ink/
When the iron flashes you freeze/
Dead in the spot, cuz the lead that I pop/
Will have the best veterans shocked/
My tech rhymes hit like tek nines if ya stepping to flaah/
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